


Gone but not forgotten

by grimmfairy



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Hurt Barry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Henry, Protective Leonard Snart, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, barry is very hurt, barry needs a lot of therapy, barry was kidnapped as a child, dark harrison wells, forced harrison/barry, henry allen is innocent, julian albert is a jerk but still becomes barry's friend, protective julian albert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmfairy/pseuds/grimmfairy
Summary: Barry Allen was 11 when his mother was murdered and he disappeared. The investigation and conviction of Henry Allen was rushed during an election season so the evidence was…shoddy and the case was mostly built on circumstantial evidence and the emotional manipulation of the jury. Barry Allen was presumed dead for the next decade and the official search for his body tapered off quickly.Then one night, two notorious master thieves break into the home of one Harrison Wells, wealthy inventor and find something they never would have expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be quite dark at times. Barry has gone through a lot. The actual act of rape will not be described in detail, but it will be discussed.

_Barry Allen was just eleven years old the night he disappeared from his home in an upper middle class suburb of Central City. His mother, Nora Allen, was found with a fatal stab wound that entered her chest and nicked her heart. She bled out within minutes. The 9-1-1 call placed by Henry Allen was timed at 12:09 a.m., and the first officer arrived on the scene within ten minutes. Henry Allen was found crouched over her body attempting to administer first aid by first responders. Nora Allen was pronounced dead at the scene. A bloodied kitchen knife was found not far from the victim. The living room where Nora's body was found showed obvious signs of a struggle. Barry was no where to be found, and his room also showed signs of a struggle. Traces of his blood were found on his bed sheets and the objects that usually adorned the top of his dresser were strewn about the floor._

_The case was quickly catapulted front and center of every media outlet in Central City when Henry Allen's status as a suspect was leaked to a reporter, and within one week the case had become national news. Henry Allen's prints were found on the handle of the murder weapon, and he had recently updated the life insurance policies on both Nora and Barry. Henry Allen maintained his innocence throughout the months that followed, and begged for any scrap of information about his son. However, none was forthcoming and the once-frenzied search for the missing boy phased into candlelight vigils for the young victim of fillicide. When Henry Allen was convicted of the first degree murder of Nora Allen as well as his son, he was placed on death row. The mayor gave an impassioned speech about the justice system and terrible loss that was Barry Allen's early death._

_Slowly, people stopped caring. Media coverage died down after Henry's trial. The mayor was re-elected. There were no more candlelit vigils and the piles of toys and photos outside his home and school molded and were removed. The police officially stopped looking for Barry's body, and Henry was locked away in a maximum security prison to await the lethal injection. Not everyone forgot, of course. Once a year, usually on the anniversary, someone would run a quick story about the ongoing mystery surrounding the Allen boy's death. A concerned citizen or crime buff would hassle the Central City PD for information or updates, one young (and admittedly untalented) aspiring filmmaker even made a small documentary regarding the Allen murders._

_But the world moved on. It's what the world does. It keeps on turning._

* * *

"Thirty-two seconds," Leonard Snart muttered to himself as he grappled with the security system. The beeping ceased and with a more pleasing chirp, the screen went dark. Snart grinned. New personal record. These "impenetrable" security systems companies were the real crooks in his opinion.  Always promising the impossible.

"Hurry up, I hate this place," Mick grumbled behind him. Snart could see why Mick hated this house. Everything was made of glass and metal, all modern and sheek and sterile. Not a lot to burn.

"Patience."

"Shut up. This place is a fucking fortress and we still haven't found what we're lookin' for," Mick snapped. "I thought you knew where it was."

Snart just pushed the door open and strolled inside. The door to Harrison Wells's office was definitely the most heavily guarded, and the most likely location of the files that they were looking to steal. Mick knew that, he was just being petulant because he almost set of a motion detector. This job was not their usual gig, but several companies had put out illicit feelers looking to get the leaked calculations for the particle accelerator that Wells had announced he was close to concluding. Construction could begin within a couple of years, much to the dismay of his competitors. 

Besides, how could Snart pass up the chance to break into this place? The blueprints he obtained from the servers of the local building department were helpful in identifying the systems he would need to crack. It had taken months of planning and observations to figure out where the "off-the-books" security systems were, and what Wells's schedule was like. He was not a man of habit, and often returned home at odd hours. This night, however, Harrison Wells was the keynote speaker at some convention downtown where he would occupied until at least midnight. Snart planned to be out of this place by ten. It was currently 9:30.

"Five minutes to clone the computer," Snart said, mostly to himself as Mick had already begun perusing the shelves for things to steal. It was part of the plan to mask the theft of the real prize for at least a day. "Mick...there's something odd about this room."

"What?" Mick paused in his tracks, and looked back at his partner. "What do you mean?"

Snart looked around contemplatively. His eyes were pinched at the corners, a sign that something was confusing him and he didn't like it. 

"This office is too short."

Mick looked at him like he was crazy.

"Short."

"The dimensions are off by..." Snart did some calculations in his head. "I'd guess by about thirty square meters."

Mick was interested now. No reason to hide a secret room unless there was something valuable inside.

"Could be a safe." Mick began running his hands over the walls, looking for a seam or a button or anything to indicate how to find the hidden room. "Ah, here we go."

The book shelf swung outwards at Mick's ministrations. A thick security door greeted them, with a keypad and palm scanner that were blinking softly.

"Who is this guy, a Bond villain?" Snart said dryly. The cloned hard drive was still working, a little slower than Snart had planned, but still within acceptable time limits. Mick was already studying the security pad with an interested look on his face.

"Whatcha think, boss? Panic room?"

"On the second floor inside a room that's already secured by a top notch system? No, this is something else. This is where he hides his dirty secrets," Snart said, his drawl becoming thicker with each word as he became more and more intrigued. "I think we should take a look."

The door itself, while several years out of date, was still highly secure against the average gunman or burglar. But they were far from average, and the door soon fell to Snart's skilled fingers. Mick heaved the door open, and Snart stepped inside the dark room that was revealed. 

The first thing he registered was the smell. The smell of blood and body odor and hints of heavy duty cleaner mixed sickeningly in the air. A soft rattle of chains came from the far side of the room, and then Mick found the light switch.

"What the fuck?" Mick said. Snart was inclined to agree with his partner on this. 

The room itself was a fairly basic panic room. Self contained tiny bathroom in the corner, easy to clean floors and walls, a panel of security cameras on one wall, and bright overhead lights. The room's contents, however, were a different matter entirely. In the far corner was a bare mattress laying directly on the floor, and there was a large wooden St. Andrew's cross opposite of it. A chest of drawers was next to the cross.

But what caught their attention first was the shivering, sobbing figure on the bed. A chain led from the center of the room to his neck, where a heavy leather collar was padlocked around his neck. The young man had his arms up over his head, as if to shield himself, and he flinched as far back as the chain would allow when Snart took a step forward. 

"Whoa, easy," Snart said, pitching his voice into a more soothing tone. He glanced back at Mick, who looked stricken in the doorway. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. Look at me."

"Please," The young man whispered as he looked at the strange man in his room. His voice was stripped of hope, desolate and scared and raspy. Raspy the way a voice got when someone had been recently strangled.

"What's your name?" Snart asked, as he went down on one knee to make himself less threatening. "Come on, kid. You can trust me." 

"It's..." His eyes flicked to the doorway, where Mick was still standing. "It's Barry. Barry Allen."

 


	2. Chapter 2

_In a stunning turn of events, the owner of Star Labs Harrison Wells has been arrested by CCPD. Wells was delivering a speech at a fundraising convention tonight when several officers interrupted and read him his rights. Little is known right now about the circumstances of his arrest, but Wells could be heard asking his assistant to call his lawyer as he was led away. For more updates, please follow this link._

Julian Albert let the screen of his smart phone go dark. The little news blurb was just what he needed, bait for reporters and media vultures that were show to stampede the station and swarm around the crime scene tape at the scene for weeks. He gripped his kit tighter with one hand as he approached the tape, nodding curtly at the officer that checked his CSI identification.

"It's a bad one," The officer warned. His eyes were dark and his pallor was almost sickly. "Thawne's waiting for you."

Julian saw the young detective standing in front of the house giving orders to the uniforms to prepare for the crowds that were certainly arriving soon.

"Detective," Julian greeted him. Detective Eddie Thawne looked over at him, and a brief flash of relief crossed his face. Julian could guess why, this was going to be a huge scandal for the CCPD and they had put their newest detective on the case. 

"Julian," Eddie greeted him. "Sorry to call you in on your night off, but...I really need the best for this."

"Where do you want me to start?" 

"He was found in a panic room on the second floor, hidden behind the wall of Harrison Wells's office," Eddie said. "Patty's already started there."

"If you don't mind me asking, where is Barry Allen? You said over the phone that he was found. _Alive._ " Julian couldn't stop the excitement from bleeding into his voice. He had been trying for years to get someone to listen to him about the Allen case, and now he was finally getting the answers he wanted.

"We sent him to the hospital already," Eddie said. "He had minor injuries and was fairly incoherent. When you're down here, I'll need you to meet him there and collect what evidence you can. Standard rape victim protocols."

Julian stiffened. As a CSI, he had seen a lot of bad things, and a lot of bad people. But these types of cases, they would always get to him. 

"How did you even find him?"

"9-1-1 call, placed just after nine-thirty tonight," Eddie answered. "But get this. The call was placed by someone claiming to be Leonard Snart. He called to report his own heist."

"Leonard Snart. _The_ Leonard Snart? Suspect in dozens of theft and larceny cases?"

"Yeah."

Julian looked over at the house. It was going to take hours to properly collect and catalog all the evidence. 

"Look, Patty is good at her job. If it's alright with you, I'd like to see if Allen is stable enough for processing now. We're under the microscope, no need to risk contamination," Julain offered. He would probably be done with that before Patty. "I'll come back and assist Patty when I'm finished."

"Alright. I've got everyone on my ass right now." Eddie's phone rang, cutting him off. "Go. I'll talk to you later."

* * *

Mick was staring at him.

"What?" Snart snapped. Mick seemed torn between amusement and frustration.

"You called the cops, boss. On _yourself_."

"Shut up, Mick," Snart cut off his partner. "We got the plans and the all of the confusion should get us enough time to find a buyer. It all worked out."

"You don't fool me," Mick replied, settling on amused. "Getting soft in your old age, Leonard."

"I didn't hear you trying to stop me," Snart threw back. Mick shrugged.

"I might be a bastard, but I'm no monster."

"Well neither am I, so just drop it."

Mick left him alone for a few minutes to clean his gun, but Snart knew when his partner wanted to say something else.

"You remember the Allen murders, right?" Mick asked eventually.

Snart sighed. Mick was just going to pester him if he tried to ignore him, so he answered.

"Yes, I remember the biggest news story of 2000," Snart replied coolly. "What's your point?"

"You think he's been in there all that time?"

Snart paused, and let the images of that room flash in front of his eyes again. The chain that connected to Barry's neck was too short to allow him to reach the bathroom, and his neck was bruised. Old scars had littered his naked body, as well as fresh bruises and scratches. And that was just what Snart could see without getting too close. Those big, wide eyes that stared up at him while he begged for them to help him had carried a drugged sheen. The blood on the mattress (and the wooden cross with its dangling restraints) might as well have been a neon sign.

"I do. And I think he saw us coming," Snart said. "Those monitors would have shown him every room on a live feed. He saw people walk in and out of that house, and there was nothing he could do to help himself."

"Think he'll even remember us?"

Snart didn't answer. 

"I met Doc Allen once, you know." Mick said it nonchalantly, but Snart could hear the undertone of tension. "Right after they got rid of the death penalty. He was one of the 'test inmates' they put back in gen-pop."

"And?"

"Not much of a talker," Mick replied. "Kept to himself mostly."

"I would too if I'd been convicted of murdering my wife and son," Snart replied dryly. 

"It'll be one hell of a family reunion." 

* * *

 

Barry Allen, aged 21, was laying on a hospital bed staring straight ahead when Julian met him. 

"Hello, Mr. Allen," Julian greeted him softly. "My name is Julian. I work with the police."

Barry didn't stir. 

"I'm actually a CSI, I handle the evidence," Julian tried again. "I know you've already been examined and you probably don't want anyone else bothering you, but I need to collect some samples. If that's alright. I promise it won't hurt."

Barry finally turned and looked at Julian, his expressive eyes conveying a level of distrust that Julian wasn't offended by. More so than that, Barry looked exhausted.

"Can I see my dad?"

Julian sighed and pulled up the hospital issue chair so he could sit instead of standing over him. 

"I'm sorry, he's not available yet," Julian apologized. Barry seemed to fold in on himself as his eyes filled with tears. Julian looked down at his hands where they lay in his lap. "But...I've met your father."

"In prison?"

Julian's eyes snapped back up. Barry must have had at least limited access to the news while he was in captivity.

"Yes. In prison. I wanted to speak with him."

"Why?"

"I was trying to understand what happened. Some of the evidence didn't add up," Julian answered simply. Barry seemed to consider his words carefully.

"What kind of samples do you need?" Barry asked quietly. Julian hesitated, but quickly snapped out of it.

"First I'm going to use these wooden sticks to gently scrape under your fingernails," Julian explained as he gathered his supplies. "And then I'm going to comb your hair into a paper evidence bag."

Julian talked Barry through each step the way he always did. He had already spoken to the doctor that performed the rape kit on Barry, and he was fully aware that Barry was hesitant to be touched. His hands had shook when he held them out for Julian, and his whole body tensed when Julian was combing his hair. He tried to keep his touch as minimal and gentle as possible. When he was finished, Julian carefully packed away all of his labeled samples and sat back in his chair.

"There's one more thing that I need to do, but we can wait until tomorrow if you would like." Julian waited for Barry to decide. The young man's eyes were drooping and he was strung like bow with tension, but Julian figured he'd offer the choice to get it all over with at once instead of dragging it out.

"What is it?"

Julian pulled out a camera. Barry flinched away, and Julian inwardly sighed. Of course the bastard had taken pictures of his prisoner. But it was necessary for him to know the exact extent of Barry's injuries for the record in case Wells tried to claim something crazy in court.

"You want to take more pictures of me?"

"This is a special camera. It will show me any bruises that are older than a few days, so I can get proof of the timeline of your injuries," Julian explained. "But like i said, this can wait until tomorrow if you would rather get some rest."

Barry looked conflicted, staring at the camera like it might bite him. 

"Can I do it tomorrow?" Barry asked in a whisper. Julian nodded, trying to keep his face reassuring. 

"Sure. I'll make sure someone comes by."

"Can you do it?" Barry looked away, as if expecting Julian to say no.

"Yeah, yeah I can do it. I'll be back tomorrow, alright?" Julian reassured him. "A lot of people will want to talk to you, you know."

"I know."

"Is there...anyone you'd like me to call?"

"The only family I have left is my dad," Barry said sadly. 

"Well, I'm sure his situation is about to change," Julian said. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Julian collected the rape kit on his way out, and spoke the the nurse about the visitor policy for Barry Allen. She told him it was either show a badge, or no entry. He brought his kit back to his lab and careful unpacked and filed everything for later processing.

Patty was waiting for him back at the crime scene, having finished with the panic room. 

"How is he?" Patty asked, her normally bright smile absent from her face. Julian shrugged, already back in CSI-mode.

"Hard to say. How would you feel after ten years of captivity?"

Patty nodded and went back to work.

* * *

 

Joe West burst into Captain Singh's office with enough force that the door banged against the wall.

"Sir, I need to call you back," Singh said into the phone and then hung up. "Close the door, Joe."

"Why wasn't I informed?" Joe shouted. Singh remained calm.

"You're too close to this. And we're heading for a shit-storm like this department has never seen so I put the detective with the fewest ties in charge so we can't be accused of letting the old guard cover up their mistakes!" Singh informed him. "If I remember correctly, you were one of the uni's assigned to the original Allen murders."

Joe stopped his frantic pacing and sat heavily in front of Singh's desk. 

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Julian Albert dropped a report on my desk a while back detailing all of the ways the investigation was botched ten years ago, one that he claims he's been trying to get you to look at for years, and one that I disregarded in favor of the testimony of one of my most respected detectives," Singh replied, reaching into his desk and pulling out a folder. It slapped on the desk and skidded to a halt in front of Joe. Joe flinched.

"I had no reason to suspect-"

"If everything in that folder is true, which seems more and more likely with each passing minute, the mishandling of this case could be classified as criminal. The department could be sued for damages! What the hell happened?" Singh demanded. 

"You weren't here then, Captain. You didn't see-"

"Apparently, neither did you. Don't hassle Eddie, he's a capable detective and I've allowed him to pull Julian Albert in. This is under control. Now, I have to prepare for a press conference and call the Mayor back."

Joe clenched his fists, but he wasn't going to go against his Captain. 

"And stay away from Barry Allen," Singh called after him.

Singh slumped into his chair and rubbed his temples. This was a disaster. The mayor was riding his ass, the public was up in arms already over getting Henry Allen released and his conviction overturned, and it was becoming clear that his department was going to catch a lot of (deserved) blow back on this. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_"I can confirm that last night around 9:45, officers were called to the scene of an alleged ongoing home invasion at the residence of Dr. Harrison Wells. Officers arrived on the scene and entered the residence to search for the suspect. They discovered a secret room on the second floor, wherein Barry Allen was found alive."_

David Singh's voice continued, giving the press enough detail for the moment to sate the public's desire for information. Iris West stood quietly with her co-workers in front of the large screens, oblivious to the customers giving her odd looks. 

Barry was alive.

"Iris!" Her manager called. Iris shook herself out her thoughts and gave the man a quick nod. She hurried over to the tables in her section to offer refills, but her thoughts were still on the news. She was at home when she heard the news. Barry Allen was her best friend growing up, her partner in crime and constant companion both by choice and by sheer luck that their parents were close friends. Losing him all those years ago had felt like a wound that never quite healed. She had started a blog not long ago, and one of the first entries was a tribute to her old friend on the last anniversary of his disappearance. At the time, it had made her feel better.

Now though, she wondered if Barry even remembered her. Ten years was a long time, and anything could have happened. He was alive this whole time, and no one had even been looking for him.

* * *

Julian Albert was not what one would refer to as "a people person". Everyone knew that, and he was pretty sure most of the precinct talked about his brusque manner behind his back. He didn't particularly care. A CSI didn't have to be "nice" all the time to be the best, and he knew when to reel it in and be on his best behavior (testifying in court, speaking to the captain, collecting evidence from victims, for example). Now, though, was not one of those times. One of the media vultures had snapped his photo outside the Wells house and he was being approached at all hours for the "off the record" scoop. 

"I'm here to see Barry Allen? I work for the CCPD," Julian said, his voice clipped. The nurse checked his credentials and motioned for him to follow.

"He's a popular one. That detective was here to see him this morning," The nurse said conversationally. 

The officer posted outside Barry's room nodded at him before going back to his newspaper. 

"Hello, Mr. Allen. How are you feeling today?" Julian asked, keeping his tone polite and professional as he set down his camera bag on the chair. Barry's bed was propped up higher so he could sit in a reclined position. The bruises on his neck were a stark purple against the white of his hospital gown. He remained silent, though his gaze was far from blank. "I brought my camera, if you're ready. Would you like your physician to be in the room?"

Barry shook his head, and carefully sat up. 

"You don't need to stand yet, you can just sit on the edge here while I photograph your neck, shoulders, and upper torso," Julian explained. Barry swung his feet forward slowly so they dangled off the edge of the bed. His legs were long, like a runner's, Julian noted. With proper care and nutrition, Barry could have been an athlete. "Alright, good. Now, I need to photograph your bare skin. Would you be alright with me untying your gown?"

Barry tensed, and looked over at the door to his room.

"No one will see you," Julian promised. "Unless you'd like someone else in here with us. You are, of course, allowed to do this yourself but I was told your shoulders are quite sore."

"You can do it," Barry whispered finally. Julian nodded, and reached for the ties behind Barry's neck but Barry moved slightly out of reach. "You wore gloves yesterday."

"I did," Julian confirmed. Barry averted his gaze, chewing his bottom lip. "Would you like me to wear them now?"

Barry hesitated, but nodded after a few seconds. It didn't bother Julian, he understood the hesitance for skin-to-skin contact and he wasn't about to discourage Barry from trying to take control of his life back. Even if it was just baby steps. Julian looked around and located the box of medical gloves by the door. He donned a pair, and once again reached for the ties. Barry tensed, and Julian could tell he was deliberately preventing himself from flinching away. Once the gown fell away from Barry's chest and pooled in his lap, Julian had to stifle his reaction what he saw. Barry was pointedly avoiding his gaze, and twirling his fingers in the gown's fabric. 

"I'm going to take a few test shots now," Julian warned, hefting the camera. "Just stay still, and we'll be done before you know it."

Barry blinked with each flash, but he stayed remarkably still while Julian worked. Most people fidgeted at least a little bit. Julian occasionally had to hold up a small ruler to give context in the close ups, and warned Barry when he was about to touch him. Julian was gentle when he had to touch Barry's neck, as the bruises there were fresh and ringed by chafing. Julian remembered seeing the chain and collar that Patty had logged into evidence. Handprints adorned his shoulders and trapezius muscles, suggesting that Barry had been grabbed roughly from behind, several times. His back was a patchwork of scars and bruises (some overlay-ed with cuts) of differing ages. Julian documented each area carefully, and then it was time for the part he knew Barry was dreading.

"I need you to stand, and remove your clothes completely," Julian said gently, inwardly flinching at the panic that flashed in Barry's eyes. He hated this part. "I can't begin to understand how difficult this is for you, but I promise I will be brief."

Barry clenched his hands, and stood gingerly. He stripped and placed the gown on the bed and stood in front of Julian, his face flushed with humiliation. 

"I'm sorry I have to do this," Julian offered. Barry didn't look at him, and allowed Julian to gently readjust his limbs when needed. When Julian finally finished with his camera, he helped Barry back into the gown. "I'm going to see if I can get you something a little more substantial to wear, Mr. Allen."

"Barry."

"Of course," Julian said, nodding. "Barry."

Julian tracked down Barry's physician for a quick conversation, and returned with a pair of hospital-issued pants and a pair of slipper socks. The pants were basically glorified sweatpants, but it was something. Julian turned his back while Barry put them on to give some semblance of privacy.

"I saw Detective Thawne again," Barry said once he was back in bed. Julian hesitated, his hand gripping the camera bag. He had been planning on leaving as soon as he finished here, but Barry was clearly reaching out to him. He should have sent Patty, she was better with people. 

"He came to talk to you about giving a formal statement, right?" Julian replied, sitting down beside the bed again. Barry nodded. "Did you give your statement?"

"No," Barry said. "I...tried, but...he said he'd come back later. With real food."

 Julian sat back in his chair.

"Well, that sounds like Eddie. A marshmallow with a gun."

"Do you trust him?" Barry asked. Julian squinted quizzically at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you trust him?" Barry asked again, more forcefully this time. "Can _I_ trust him?"

"I believe so," Julian said carefully, sensing that Barry was working himself up. "He's the youngest detective in the precinct, transferred a few months ago from the Keystone Department. Why do you ask?"

"My dad is in prison for crimes he didn't commit," Barry said, his voice hard. " _Harrison_ told me he didn't even _try_ to cover up after himself. And still, my dad went to prison."

Julian wondered if he should tell Barry about the file he had composed. He had long suspected there was someone else in the house that night, but the crime scene was long gone and new family was living in the house. With the Captain's permission, he was going to give a copy to Henry Allen's lawyer. He had a feeling it could be a valuable pressure point in getting his conviction overturned.

"You can trust him to do the job right the first time, Barry. And for what it's worth, you can trust me too."

"How do I know that?" 

Julian half-smiled.

"Because I'm the one they call when they need the best."

Barry relaxed finally, and his hands unclenched from the blanket. Julian hefted his camera bag and stood up.

"I have to get back to work now, but if you need anything or want to talk, you can ask someone to call Detective Thawne or myself," Julian said. 

"I will," Barry said. Julian didn't quite believe him. But that was to be expected, he supposed.

* * *

_In light of the miraculous discovery of Barry Allen, alive and well after being presumed dead for a decade, and the arrest of Harrison Wells, there is a renewed interest in the fate of Henry Allen. Much of the prosecution's case hinged on the idea the theory that Henry murdered his son first and then his wife, and then made up a story about kidnappers to cover his tracks. There is speculation from unnamed sources inside the CCPD that the original investigation was mishandled from the very beginning, and all eyes are on Captain Singh._

Henry Allen.

Joe had known the man for years, been friends with him from first sight. He had allowed his daughter to play with Barry all the time and invited the Allens to his home on more occasions that he could count. He had leaned on Henry when his wife left, when he agonized over lying to his daughter about the circumstances of her disappearance, been the best man at Henry's wedding.

He was Barry's godfather, and Henry was Iris's. 

And then everything went so, so incredibly wrong. In one night, twenty years of friendship was torn apart.

At the time, he hadn't been able to comprehend why Henry would do something so heinous. But the evidence was there, the detectives in charge were well-respected, and Joe was just barely allowed anywhere near the case because of his history. The official report was convincing enough for a jury: Henry's fingerprints were found on the knife. There was no sign of forced entry. The life insurance policies were damning, and Barry was just...gone. He was gone. No ransom, no body, no leads.

Joe was a fool. So blinded by his rage, his raw sorrow, to truly think clearly. This was why he had to fight so hard to be allowed to remain on the Allen case, because his superiors knew he wouldn't be thinking straight.

"Dad?" Iris's voice filtered through the house, and he heard the door close a bit too loud. Heels clicked on the floors and then his daughter came into view.

"Hey, baby," Joe greeted, turning to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"How can you ask that?" Iris asked, slumping down on the couch next to him. "Barry Allen is alive, and it's looking like Harrison Wells was really the man that killed his mother. He's been alive this entire time, and Henry was innocent!"

"Yeah," Joe said vaguely. Iris looked at him expectantly.

"Well? Aren't you, I don't know, excited? Happy he's alive? Upset that the department was wrong?" Iris asked incredulously. 

"I'm just...processing everything right now," Joe replied softly. Iris sighed.

"Do you think...do you think he'd be okay with me visiting him at the hospital? Or maybe I should send him some flowers? What says 'hey, I'm really glad you're alive'?" Iris was speaking more to herself than her father, but Joe could hear the tremor in her voice. "Would he even be happy to see me? What if he's suffering from Stockholm or something? I know that Harrison Wells has been detained, but what if he posts bail and skips town? He's a billionaire or something, we'd never see him again!"

"I doubt any judge will grant him bail, not with all the charges against him," Joe commented. "Barry gave his statement to Eddie today. It's bad."

Iris quieted. 

"He'll be alright now, though. He's safe, and Henry will be released, right?"

"We'll do what can for him."

"Maybe you should offer to let him stay here with us?" Iris looked expectantly at her father. "At least until he figures something out?"

"I'll think about it."

* * *

David Singh knew he looked like crap when his husband brought him a beer without even asking.

"So. How was your day?" Rob asked when he handed David the bottle. David snorted.

"Well, I have the mayor on my ass to minimize the damage to the department, every detective that so much as looked at the Allen murders case is being investigated by Internal Affairs, Harrison Wells's lawyers are destroying whole forests with the amount of paperwork they're creating, and Henry Allen has filed an appeal to have his case looked at again which can't happen for at least a month," David said, counting them off on his fingers. He took a long pull. Rob pecked him on the forehead.

"Hold on, I think I'll get something a little stronger." David watched his husband disappear into the kitchen before turning on the news.

_"I am confident that my client will finally receive the justice that was denied to him ten years ago, and I look forward to walking him down these step a free man." Henry Allen's lawyer was replaced by the journalist on screen, "And there you have it. The appeals process has already begun to free Henry Allen. The mayor's office and Iron Height's Prison have been inundated with letters and phonecalls demanding Henry Allen's release, and #FreeAllen has gone viral on twitter. Whether we will see a reunion between father and son remains to be seen, but it rumors are true there is a very good chance that this just might happen within the year."_

"Here," Rob said, handing his husband a tumbler of whiskey on the rocks. David waited for him to sit next to him on the couch.

"Thanks." David slung his free arm around his husband's shoulders. "What a mess."

"You'll get through it," Rob replied. "Everything will be fine."

David sighed. He hoped that was true.

"He's been through so much," David sighed. "How am I supposed to make anything better? His father has been in prison the whole time, they have no home to return to. With any luck, Henry found someone to handle his finances so he'll still have some savings. But even if he is released and his conviction overturned, that could take months. Months that Barry will have to spend alone. He's too old to put into foster care, and he's already shown clear signs of PTSD. We might have to put him a halfway house until we're certain he can reintegrate into society."

"There must be someone you can call," Rob said. David took a swallow of whiskey.

"He's the only child of two more only-children, and his grandparents all passed away long ago. His family's friends all faded into the woodwork after the trial, understandably, and his godfather is one of my detectives and one of the officers involved in the original case." David rubbed his eyes. God he was exhausted. Reporters were exhausting. 

"Have you spoken to him?" Rob asked. David shook his head.

"I've been so busy handling the media I've left most of the talking to my team," David answered, then he laughed softly. "Eddie told me he seems somewhat attached to Julian Albert, of all people."

"Interesting choice," Rob muttered. David looked exhausted, so Rob changed the subject. "How about some takeout? The thai place is open all night."

"You spoil me," David said, his face relaxing. "I must really look like shit."

"You deserve a treat. And watch your language."

David pulled Rob in for a quick, tight hug before letting him go to order. 

"Love you."

* * *

Barry flipped through the channels aimlessly. He didn't really want to watch the news anymore, and most of the shows he didn't recognize. Eventually, he settled on an episode of The Simpsons. He used to watch it with his dad when his mom wasn't around to scold them. She used to say she "didn't want his sense of humor to be warped". This episode was full of references he didn't really get, but he appreciated the familiar characters and the memories it conjured. There were four episodes lined up, so he wouldn't have to look for something else for awhile.

"What is it with you Americans and the Simpsons?" 

Barry turned to see Julian standing in the doorway.

"I recognize it," Barry said. "I don't recognize any of the shows."

Julian shrugged.

"Whatever you say, mate. The nurse said you wanted to talk to me?" Julian came into the room and took his (now it seemed) usual spot next to the bed. A week had passed since he last spoken to Barry. He had been too busy to visit. Barry took a deep, calming breath.

"I gave my statement today, to the detective," Barry started. Julian nodded, Eddie had shown it to him. The evidence collected at the scene and the photographs Julian had taken had confirmed Barry's statement. "I told him...everything I could remember about the night he-the night my mom died. And then...everything that Harrison did to me afterwards."

"I heard."

"Did you read it?" Barry asked. His light brown eyes searched Julian's face. Julian hesitated, but he nodded. 

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Barry sighed. "I um, I wanted to ask you about my dad. You're the only person I know that's actually talked to him. You're one of the only people i know at all, really."

Julian looked over at the wall clock. Official visiting hours ended in one hour, and though he could probably flash his credentials for extra time, this wasn't really a professional visit. 

"I don't know him very well, really," Julian said. "After the death penalty was abolished, he won his appeal to be released back into the general population, with all of the same visiting privileges. I was the only person besides his lawyer that ever visited him."

"Why did you visit?"

"I was a new CSI, brash and trying to prove myself. I had heard of the Allen murders when I was eighteen. Something about them always felt...off. I didn't know at the time what it was, but just the way your father spoke to the press during his trial, and the way he testified, it stuck with me. When I was hired on as a CSI trainee, I requested to look at the old case file," Julian paused. "Are you alright?"

Barry nodded. 

"Keep going."

"Well, after I looked at the file, I started asking to meet with Henry. I needed to see him face to face," Julian said. "He was convinced I was just another thrill seeker trying to score an interview with a murderer, but eventually he relented. I can tell you he was very surprised when I told him I wanted to reopen the case. He didn't believe me at first, but I kept visiting him. Once a month, for about a year. Sometimes we talked about you, usually we talked about his case."

Barry listened as Julian told him about his father. It was a pale substitute for the real thing, and it didn't really make him feel better to hear about the way his father lived in jail, but it was better than sitting alone in his room. It was comforting to hear that at least someone had believed his father might not be the monster the press had made him out to be. Harrison had allowed him to see the more brutal opinion pieces about his father, the ones that called him a monster and a manic and a psychopath. The tabloid trash that suggested he was having an affair, that his mother was having an affair, even that his father wasn't really his father. None of it was true, but it was out there in the public eye. And eventually, Harrison let him watch the world forget. Eventually Julian tapered off. He hadn't actually seen Henry for awhile.

"Barry, I have a question for you," Julian said carefully. "I know that you don't have any immediate family but, you do have a godfather."

Barry's face hardened.

"I don't want to see _him_."

Julian held up his hands in surrender. 

"Alright, I understand. But he's been asking me about you," Julian warned. Barry turned away.

"I don't care."

"I'm working to get your father's appeal moving," Julian said when it became clear that Barry wasn't going to speak. "But it could take awhile. You need to think about where you want to go when the hospital releases you."

"Thanks for talking to me, but I think I want to rest now," Barry said dismissively. Julian nodded, he wasn't offended. Barry had had a long day. Giving his statement had taken hours, both because of the sheer amount of information Barry had to give and the breaks he had needed when the stress was overwhelming.

"Of course, I'm sorry if I upset you."

Julian left Barry's hospital room and headed home. He had a long day ahead of him. The Internal Affairs people wanted to speak with him again to go over his report again, and he had an amazing amount of backlog to get through after focusing so much time on Barry Allen's evidence. Then Singh wanted to start preparing him to testify in the preliminary trial. Lawyers for Harrison Wells were out for blood, Henry Allen's lawyer had been approached by several big names with offers of pro bono assistance in filing appeals, and he had to make sure all of the evidence was regulation. The appeal had a good chance of success, even with Harrison's lawyers muddying the waters.  

Still, it promised to be an interesting ride.


	4. Chapter 4

Leonard Snart was expecting the officers that picked him up from Saints and Sinners, the bar where he conducted a lot of his "business". He didn't put up a fight when they slapped some cuffs on him and put him in the backseat of the squad car. He knew the drill. The interrogation room was just as depressing as he remembered from the last time the CCPD had tried to put him away. The blonde detective in charge of the Allen case sat down in front of him and dropped a file in front of him. Eddie Thawne, if Leonard wasn't mistaken.

"To what do I owe this little meeting?" Snart asked casually, clasping his cuffed hands in front of him on the table. "We don't often see Central City's finest in our neck of the woods."

"You have quite the record, Mr. Snart," Thawne said, flipping open the manila file. 

"Troubled childhood, what can I say?" Snart replied. It was a well-known secret that Lewis Snart, his father, was a dirty cop. One of the old guard, something that was tactfully avoided every time Leonard's name came up. 

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No, sir."

"Twelve days ago, a 9-1-1 call was placed from the home of Harrison Wells," Eddie said. "The caller identified himself as Leonard Snart and claimed hat he was robbing the residence."

"Well, it certainly wasn't me," Snart said innocently. "Wait...Harrison Wells? Isn't that the guy that had Barry Allen in his basement? Thank god he was found."

Eddie gave him an unimpressed stare. With all the other excitement over the Allen discovery, bringing Snart in for questioning had fallen pretty low on the list of priorities. Especially since the scene had yielded no evidence of Leonard Snart's presence, and Barry Allen had been drugged when they found him. Textbook unreliable eyewitness. Without a confession, Eddie doubted that a master thief like Snart was going back to prison on this charge. Even the recorded call was circumstantial. Voice-matching software wasn't as sophisticated in real life as it was on TV. Any lawyer with half a brain could tear that down in court.

"You know the drill. Do you have an alibi for the night in question?"

"Why, yes I do Detective. I was at Saints and Sinners all night, ask anyone. I'll show you the receipts, if you like."

"Of course," Eddie said, jotting down some notes. "I assume this bar has no security cameras?"

Snart shrugged. It was a meeting place for criminals. There were no cameras.

"Well, if there's nothing else I think I'll be going," Snart said.

"I have one more question," Eddie said. "What do you think would make a burglar risk everything to call the cops? It would have been easier to ignore what they found."

"I couldn't tell you," Snart replied after a moment's pause. "Only human, I suppose."

* * *

When Julian arrived at the hospital to visit Barry, he was strapped down and sleeping.

"What the hell happened?" Julian snapped at the nurse. She gave him an unimpressed look as she adjusted something with Barry's IV.

"He attacked one of the orderlies," She said calmly. "We had to sedate him before he hurt someone, or himself."

Julian sighed and rubbed his eyes. The flashbacks were never good. 

"When will it wear off?"

"He should come around in a few hours," She answered. 

Julian sat heavily next to Barry's bed. Barry had been having nightmares at night now that he was off most of the drugs. His haunted, exhausted eyes usually brightened a bit when Julian came by with updates on his father's appeals but Julian was concerned. Singh was concerned too, but mostly because they still weren't sure what to do with Barry after he was discharged from the hospital. The halfway houses in Central were mostly for recovering drug addicts, and the nearest psychiatric ward was in Star City. Neither were tempting options, considering. A light knock on the doorframe snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Hello?"

Julian turned around and saw a young black woman standing in the door. She was wearing plain blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and thin green jacket. He'd seen her around the station occasionally, awkwardly trying pretend she and Eddie weren't dating.

"Iris West," Julian greeted warily. "What are you doing here?"

"I um...I was hoping to see Barry," Iris said, ducking her head shyly. "I didn't realize anyone else would be here."

"Neither did I, quite frankly," Julian replied. "I thought Singh made it quite clear that the West's were to stay clear of this whole thing."

Iris shrugged, her eyes already on Barry. He looked so different than what she remembered. His face, lax in drugged sleep, was thinner and paler than it had been when he was younger. His hair was cut short in a basic, functional style. And his skin. What she could see of it (his arms, his neck...) was still marred by scars and yellow shadows of bruises. It was jarring. 

"We used to be friends, Barry and I..." Iris trailed off. Julian raised an eyebrow. "I know it was a long time ago, but I guess, I don't know. I don't know what I was hoping for."

"I sympathize with you, I really do," Julian said, softening his tone slightly. "But right now, I don't know if seeing you would be good for him. He wants nothing to do with your father, and he's had a rough day."

"No, no, I understand." Iris gave one last, long look at Barry. She took an aborted step into the room, before waving awkwardly. "I'll just, go now."

Julian watched her leave and sank back into his chair. How he had become the one to watch over the man in the hospital bed was beyond him. Usually he could barely get people to stick around long enough to give a report, and now Barry seemed to want him to stick around longer each time. That didn't change the fact that he really did believe Barry needed a little more time before he tried to reconnect with people from his past, if he even wanted to. So far, it seemed that Henry Allen's defense attorney had been keeping up with Henry's assets. The house had been sold, all debts paid, and the remainder was only used to pay the legal fees as they came. It wasn't much, since Henry couldn't add to it and lawyers were expensive, but at least there was something left.

Julian didn't feel right about leaving, since it was likely that Barry would wake alone which he hated, but he had to go to work before the drugs wore off. He decided to leave now and get an early start so he could come back when the drugs wore off. 

* * *

Joe hated coming to this place. Iron Heights was a cold concrete box that housed the worst of the worst, many of which Joe had personally put there. He sat down hard in the uncomfortable chair in front of the thick glass and waited. A few minutes later, the chair opposite of him was filled. Joe reached for the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hello, Joe."

"Henry," Joe said. The name felt foreign to him. Henry Allen looked old. Older than his true age by several years, but his eyes were sharp.

"It's been a long time," Henry said, his voice much raspier than Joe remembered. Joe took a deep calming breath, then squared his shoulders.

"I should have believed you, back then," Joe said. The words had sounded so much better in his head and when he rehearsed in the car. Now, out loud, they sounded so inadequate.

"What's done is done. You can't change what happened," Henry replied. He didn't sound angry. Instead, Henry sounded so very tired. "What I care about now is my son."

Joe flinched slightly. Henry had of course been notified of his son's miraculous return by his lawyers as soon as a meeting could be set up. The happy news was tainted by the circumstances of Barry's life for the last ten years. He wondered just how much Henry knew.

"I've been instructed by the captain to keep my distance until this case is officially closed," Joe said. 

"I think that's for the best," Henry said. A long silence stretched between them. "Was there something else?"

Joe sighed.

"Henry, I...I am so sorry."

Henry studied him a moment longer.

"It was good to see you, Detective West."

Henry hung up the phone and signaled for a guard to take him back. Joe put his phone back too. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Certainly not a warm welcome. But the almost disinterested way Henry, the man he used to know better than anybody, had regarded him was a surprise. 

Ten years really was a long time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more plot notes, please see this tumblr post
> 
> http://grimm-fairy.tumblr.com/post/157052621935/probable-hurtbarry-ao3-fic-that-i-will-write


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